


Frayed at the Ends

by Kirito_Potter



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Soulmates, Rating May Change, Red String of Fate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:21:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22758463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirito_Potter/pseuds/Kirito_Potter
Summary: Alex watches with disdain as Prince Henry himself walks closer, with that blank, vacant look on his face, and settles himself beside Alex, not leaning on the wall but standing perfectly straight. Alex wants to yank the stick out of his ass and smack him with it.He's surprised he didn't notice Henry sooner, really-- after all, the closer Henry got, the more Alex's string shrunk, until it didn't even graze the floor, until the dip at the bottom of the curve was above Alex's knees, until their hands-- Alex's left, Henry's right-- were less than a foot away from each other, and their black strings were clearly connected as one.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 31
Kudos: 136





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I want to re-read the book before I write more for this, but I do have a few scenes worked out and I know approximately how this fic will go. I hope I don't take too long to finish it lol.

Alex has a bad habit of chewing on his string. He's not sure when he started doing it, but it's almost an instinct at this point.

He can still remember the first time his mom caught him with the string between his teeth. She nearly had a heart attack, yanking it out of his mouth before he even knew she was there.

"Alex!" She'd screeched. "What do you think you're doing?"

Still confused, he asked quietly, "Did I do something wrong?"

Ellen gripped the black string tightly in a shaking fist, holding it up so he could see the scraggly fibers. "You were chewing on it!"

"So?"

She glared. "What if you'd chewed the darn thing straight through?"

"What do you mean?" He asked, pouting. "It's just a string."

Something in her shifted, and her shoulders slumped. "Oh, honey." She sat beside him on the couch, rolling the string delicately between her fingers. "Strings are more than just strings. They… they connect people. And this string--" she pinched it between two fingers, holding it up to her eye level-- "it's connected to you, but it's also connected to someone else. Somewhere. Someone you'll meet someday, for reasons only the universe knows."

Alex hadn't understood at the time, not really, but he nodded anyway.

His mother let go of the string, and it swung down to the ground, dangling from his hand. He wiggled his pinky finger, watching the black line dance on the rug.

"Keep that string safe," she murmured. "It's important."

Alex nodded again. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, whispered a fond "Love you," and slipped out of the room.

As soon as she was out of sight, he'd started chewing on the string again.

By now, his mom knows not to bother trying to convince him. The string has never broken, no matter how hard he’s chewed on it or how absolutely disgusting it’s gotten with spit. She only elbows him when he starts on it in public-- the First Son of the United States ought to keep up appearances, and chewing on his string is practically as camera-ready as sucking on his thumb.

The only real difference between then and now is he knows who the other end of the string is attached to.

“Excited to see your stringmate? June teases. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to gnaw the thing right off.”

He snorts. "I wish." His voice is muffled as he tries to speak around the string.

His sister grins at him. Well, grinning isn't quite the right word. More like leering. "At least it's not pink. Could you imagine?"

Alex huffs, making the bit of string hanging from his mouth puff out before falling slack again. Turning to look out the window of the plane, he can spot his string easily amongst the others streaming from the door, stark against the sky. He can't see past the cloudline, but he imagines the ocean they're flying over, pictures the millions of strings all crossing it, connecting people over hundreds of thousands of miles. More, even. He saw pictures taken from space as a kid; he told his mom it looked like a rainbow hugging the earth.

Of course, his mom's vibrant pink string is inside the plane, tied to his step dad, and June and Nora's shared blue one sways only feet away from him.

"You look like you're pretending to be in a bad music video," Nora snickers as if Alex's musings have cued her to speak. "What's with all this angst?"

"Oh, I don't know," Alex grunts, looking up to meet her gaze. "I'm just on my way to meet my designated enemy, that's all."

Nora rolls her eyes. He rolls his right back. He knows neither of them mean it-- they’ve been like this for years, even before their parents were political partners in crime.

"Strings can change!" She offers, throwing her hands up. June's right hand jerks the slightest bit to follow, just enough to be seen in Alex's peripheral vision.

"Sometimes," Alex concedes, pulling the string from his mouth to wrap it lazily around his pointer finger. "But not very often."

"Yeah, well two strings aren't common either," Nora points out, gesturing with her left hand.

June shows off hers as well. Both of them have two strings, one on each hand, but the two of them are only connected once. Three stringmates total. (Four? There's no guarantee they're connected to the same person.)

"So what are you saying?" Alex grumbles. "That maybe he and I will get all friendly with each other and our string will turn periwinkle?"

"I was thinking cerulean," June quips.

"Or robin's egg," Nora adds, giggling.

"It's not happening," Alex sighs. "We just… clash. I mean, the universe knew we wouldn't get along before we did. That seems pretty final."

"Don't make mom prepare another PowerPoint," June warns. "Strings just connect and label, you know that. Nothing's set in stone."

"It might as well be," Alex grunts. "He and I are more different than-- than--"

"Peanut butter and jelly," Nora smirks.

"What? No!"

"Salty and sweet? Chunky and smooth?" She prods him in the stomach, making him flinch and squeal in a decidedly unmanly way.

"That's-- you're--" Alex shakes his head. "It'll never happen, okay? And that's that."

Nora and June share a look that could mean anything.

"Sure," June hums. "Whatever you say."

Alex grips the string and tugs a section of it taut a few times, turning back to the window. In only a few hours, he might be lucky enough to yank the string so hard, the guy on the other end will fall on his face.

***

The wedding is pretty, Alex supposes, but boring. He hopes no one is taking pictures of him, because if he looks half as spaced out as he feels it’ll surely be a headline. (They probably are, aren’t they? This is a big, important event, and his family crossed an ocean just to be here.) He can't seem to latch onto what everyone is saying, just the general sounds of their voices. By the time he steps into the reception hall, he somehow feels both jittery and exhausted.

His mood picks up a little when he sees the cake. He doesn't really care about how expensive it was. Making cake at home is just as delicious, if not more, as buying one of those fancy designer cakes, as he's learned from all the dinners at the white house he's sat through with celebrities and politicians. But cake is cake, and he's always down for dessert. He just hopes they get around to serving it soon.

"You alright?" June asks to his left.

He glances over to her. "Huh?"

"You seemed out of it during the ceremony," she remarks.

He shrugs. "I don't know, it was just a wedding."

"A royal wedding," she prods. Then, softer, "I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine, really, just bored," he smiles. "At least I've got you." He looks back up at the towering cake and puts on a dreamy expression. "And my true love…"

June snickers. "Get a room."

A man in a generic black suit walks into Alex's peripheral vision, stopping just in front of June. He looks exactly like every other English person here: tall, thin, and so white he’d probably burst into flames if he saw the sun. "His Royal Highness Prince Henry requests that you dance with him, Miss Claremont."

June's eyebrows shoot up, and she glances over at Alex before letting the man lead her into the crowd of people dancing.

Alex huffs, walking to the table of little sandwiches. Eyeing them with malice, he picks one up. He imagines he's biting off Henry's head. He watches the dance as he chews, eyes starting on Prince Philip and his new bride but very quickly drifting away. He tries not to look like he's keeping an eye on June. She's smiling. He can't imagine why.

When the song comes to a close, Alex dusts crumbs off his suit and wanders closer to the cake. Leaning against the wall beside it, he waits for June to return to his side, maybe even with Nora in tow.

Instead, Alex watches with disdain as Prince Henry himself walks closer, with that blank, vacant look on his face, and settles himself beside Alex, not leaning on the wall but standing perfectly straight. Alex wants to yank the stick out of his ass and smack him with it.

He's surprised he didn't notice Henry sooner, really-- after all, the closer Henry got, the more Alex's string shrunk, until it didn't even graze the floor, until the dip at the bottom of the curve was above Alex's knees, until their hands-- Alex's left, Henry's right-- were less than a foot away from each other, and their black strings were clearly connected as one.

Henry has gloves on-- he always seems to have gloves on-- but Alex can imagine the spot on his pinky where the string is tied in a neat little bow before poking out of the small hole in the fabric. Or at least, he assumes someone as prim and proper as Henry would get a bow on his finger, but it's probably just tied off haphazardly the way Alex's is. (That idea seems hilarious to Alex. Finally, something that isn’t all neat and tidy about the prince.)

"Hello, Alex," Henry muses without turning his head.

_He's like a fucking mannequin,_ Alex thinks. _Has about as many expressions as one anyway._

"What, come here just to piss me off?" Alex snaps.

Henry doesn't so much as raise a blonde eyebrow. "I don't know what gave you that impression."

"Your face."

"Mature."

Alex bites the inside of his cheek, trying to get a grip. "I was fine over here, minding my own business."

"You looked like you could use some company," Henry says in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Yeah, from my sister," he growls. "Have fun dancing with her?"

"She's a delight," Henry remarks, and he's being sincere. It only makes Alex angrier.

"I'm glad," he huffs. "At least one of us is having a good time."

Henry pauses, and his fingers flex slightly at his side, making their string bounce. "What has you so upset? No one's done anything to you. You can't even go an hour before you're lashing out?"

"That's--" Alex shakes his head. "I can't go an hour around _you,_ more like."

"This is the first we've spoken in months," Henry replies. "You were angry as soon as I approached you."

Alex's temper boils over. "Then don't approach me!" He explodes, spinning on his heel to face Henry. He hears some of the nearby chatter come to a halt, but he doesn't care. "Just leave me alone for once! Nothing is going to change, okay? Just because I'm in the same room as you doesn't mean you have to come over and-- and--" he stumbles over his words for a moment; his brain is going faster than his mouth can handle. "And harass me!"

Finally, Henry turns to him. His blue eyes are cold, and Alex would believe it if someone told him they were made of glass. "You're making a scene."

"I'll make a scene out of _you_!" Alex shouts. "Just give me some personal space!"

"We live on opposite sides of the ocean. I think you have plenty of space," Henry replies. Even his quips are monotone.

"I wish we lived on opposite sides of the solar system!" Alex snarls.

Henry shoves him.

Alex stumbles back a bit, yelping, but manages to catch himself before he can trip over his own feet.

"Hey!" Alex snarls.

It's then that he remembers his thoughts on the plane the day before, and a smug grin sneaks its way onto his face. He takes a step back, giving himself a longer string to work with, and pulls. Hard.

Henry, of course, is jerked forward, eyes wide, and for a split second, Alex is tempted to cackle. Then he realizes that he's only succeeded in pulling Henry towards him. The prince throws his hands out to catch himself. He slams into Alex again, and everything moves in slow motion. Alex is pushed against something, and he thinks he's hitting the wall until it gives way under his weight. It's only when they land on the ground and Alex sees the frosting littering Henry's face above him that the sinking feeling sets in.

***

"Jesus Christ," Alex's mother sighs. "I don't have time to deal with this, pumpkin. All my efforts-- all my team's efforts-- are on reelection. We can't afford an international incident right now."

Alex is sitting in front of the whiteboard, arms crossed, pointedly staring down the title slide (STRINGMATES AND POLITICAL LEADERS: THE IMPLICATIONS) as she and her assistant Zahra glare at him. On some level, he knows his mom is right, but that doesn't make him hate Prince Henry any less.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, but even he doesn't buy it.

"Sorry doesn't cut it," Ellen retorts. "I know you two share a black string, and obviously you don't get along, but in your position--"

"I know," he growls. "But it's not my fault! He-- he pushed me!"

"From what I understand, you were the one who pulled him down."

"Well-- well yeah, but-- he started it!"

"The pushing happened after you started yelling."

"He pushed me _emotionally_ first!"

Zahra snaps her fingers in Alex's face. "It doesn't matter who did or didn't start it. The point is, you need to fix this."

Alex slumps down, sliding in his seat. "Yeah, whatever. I'll ignore him from now on, okay?"

Ellen gives him the look she saves for failing grades and unethical legislation. "Very funny."

Alex pouts. "What? It's a good enough plan."

"Nuh-uh. You, young man, are going to do much better than that." She clicks to the next slide-- DAMAGE CONTROL FOR DUMMIES-- and glances to Zahra. "We've already created a story, and it should be enough to please everyone out there who’s desperate for me to screw up."

Zahra hands Alex an index card filled with bullet points. He squints at it for a moment. "I don't understand."

Zahra's expression is best described as unamused. "You and Prince Henry are friends-- good friends who often meet up, and get along, but whose string started black and never changed despite you two hitting it off right away."

Alex gapes up at her. "You want me to lie?"

"You did say you wanted to be a politician."

"No, I mean--" he runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back only for it to fall back into his eyes. "No one will believe it. Strings connect and label. Everyone knows that."

"And," Ellen cuts in, "everyone knows that strings are hardly an exact science. They're hard to predict sometimes. People will eat this sort of thing up-- two people dictated by fate to hate each other who overcame the odds."

Alex tries to argue, but all that comes out is an indignant squeak.

"You're going to memorize that card," his mother says, pointing at it as if he doesn't know which one she's talking about. "It's all facts about Prince Henry. He's got one about you, too. And in a few days, you're going to fly over for a visit."

"I just got back!" Alex groans.

"By visit," she hisses, "I mean interviews and public appearances with him to make it look like you two are… what's the word? Chummy."

Alex wishes he could just crumple up the card and throw it at the PowerPoint, but he knows there's probably several copies. "And then what?"

"And then," Ellen declares, "you two will keep up appearances until further notice."

"Fine." What else is there to say?

She smiles weakly. "I know this feels like a punishment, darling," she whispers, and leans forward, gently cupping his cheek in her hand. "And that's ‘cause it is." She gives him a light slap, more surprising than painful. "Now get. You don't have a lot of time to learn all that, and we've still got to brief you for interviews too."

With a dejected sigh, Alex stands from his chair, gripping the card a little tighter than necessary. "I'll see you for dinner, then?"

"Sounds good," she grins.

He turns and starts for the door, dragging his feet.

"Oh, and Alex?"

He glances over his shoulder.

"Don't screw this up."

***

For the second time in three days, Alex is stepping off a plane onto English soil. He doesn’t even have June to cheer him up-- and worse, he’s going to spend an entire weekend with Horrendously Repulsive Hag Prince Henry.

He watches with disdain as his string starts to shrink, lifting off the ground as he walks down the steps. He looks up, and Henry is looking at him with that blank stare.

A camera flashes, and immediately Henry's face shifts into a new mask, a bright smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

Alex pretends to grin back, but he tells Henry without saying anything, _Don’t be confused: it's a grimace._

Henry's eyes shine back, _I know._

Alex hops over the final step and breaks into a light jog towards Henry, like he can’t wait to be beside him. He throws his arms around Henry and tries not to wince. Cameras keep going off. He can’t be sure, but he thinks Henry’s hair smells like lavender. It figures he’d use special scented shampoo-- probably a brand deal. Maybe it’s even one-of-a-kind or something.

When they pull apart, Alex keeps an arm looped loosely around Henry’s shoulders, pulling him along as they start to walk towards the wave of reporters. He can hear Zahra scribbling something down as she walks behind them.

“Mister Claremont-Diaz!” A woman shouts, holding a microphone. “Will the White House be paying for the cake?”

“Were either of you hurt in the fall?”

“What caused the argument?”

“Prince Henry! Is it true you pushed him?”

“Is it true you pulled your string?”

“Did the fight arise from Henry dancing with your sister?”

“How long have you been friends?”

Henry raises a hand to silence them, voice monotonous. “Sorry, but we have to get going.”

“We’ll be answering plenty of questions today, don’t worry,” Alex adds, smirking charmingly. More cameras flash.

“But your Highness--”

“Alexander! Can you--”

“Just one question--”

Henry keeps walking, and they part like the red sea for him, even as they continue to shout at the pair of them. Alex would be impressed if he couldn’t see the haughty look on Henry’s face as he steps past the reporters.

A chauffeur steps out of the black limousine, holding open the door, and Alex lets go of Henry, gesturing for him to enter first as if he’d ever be so cordial off-camera. He steps inside and slides across the leather seat, waiting for Zahra and Shaan to sit across from them. The chauffeur closes the door and sits behind the wheel, and the car starts with a low rumble.

Alex groans and slams the back of his head against the seat, squeezing his eyes shut. “I just got here, and I already want to take a nap.”

“That’s because you have the maturity of an infant,” Henry says easily.

Gnashing his teeth, Alex forces himself not to punch him. “Takes one to know one.”

Shaan clears his throat, and Alex opens his eyes. “It might be smart to refrain from more fighting, especially this weekend.” His dark eyes are sympathetic as they trail over to Henry. “Would you like to switch seats?”

Henry shakes his head. “It’ll look suspicious. Better to ride it out.”

They do their best.


	2. Chapter 2

Alex is still reeling when he wakes up. He can't get the image of Prince Henry in the door frame of the little kitchen out of his head, their string curling across the floor between them in abstract patterns. And when he tries to push past it, he remembers when he finally decided to come back to his assigned bedroom, stepping out of the kitchen only to see the black line running down the hallway like a trail of breadcrumbs for him to follow. For a long moment, he honestly considered seeing where it led him.

He pushes out of bed and tries to tame his tangle of curls, even messier than usual from his insomnia-powered tossing and turning, but he's too sleepy and doesn't really give a fuck, so he gives them a bruising round of brushing and gives up.

The makeup artists deal with it, it soon turns out. He's not sure what dark magic they use, but by the time he and Henry take their seats on the prop couch, accompanied by thunderous applause from the live audience, his thick hair is all soft and shiny.

And so is Henry's. It looks softer than his, even. Like a cloud. Typical, really.

(Alex has to admit, as infuriating as Henry's sass is, and as often as Alex wants to punch his smug smirk so hard he knocks his teeth out, and as completely bland Henry's personality is, even more so than the breakfast they had this morning-- he does, in fact, look exactly like a prince out of a storybook.)

(He can almost understand what his sister sees in Henry.)

(Almost.)

Dottie and Stu are extremely cordial. Which is their job, Alex supposes, but still. Between them and Henry, there's something almost unsettling about just how  _ perfect _ British people feel the need to be. Polite and quaint and generous, all with perfect posture. (Well, Henry is polite to everyone except him. But it counts.)

Despite his slight discomfort, Alex manages to not only hit all the pre-written cues, but also be funny. He can tell the audience likes him, at least, and even Henry stifles a chuckle at one point, which feels like a massive win. He didn't think Henry knew  _ how  _ to laugh.

The interview is over quickly enough, though not before Alex gets Henry to fistbump him. Their string is possibly the shortest it's ever been, just for a few seconds. It would have been even shorter if Henry weren't wearing gloves, his end of the string poking out of the hole at the tip of his pinky.

Soon, they're being carted off, and when Alex checks his phone in the car, the fistbump is going slightly viral. He sees that many of the gifs being shared are captioned with  _ #StringSons.  _ He's never seen that hashtag before. Maybe it's a new one, coined now that the two of them are being portrayed as friends instead of enemies.

He's even more surprised when, scrolling through the hashtag on Twitter, his thumb stops over the bottom of an edited gif. Someone has gone in, frame by frame, and recolored their black string to be a pale pink. It's the color of cherry blossoms, he notes in the back of his mind. The tweet is tagged  _ #StringSons, _ but also  _ #StringSonsShip. _ He taps on the tweet to pull it out of the search and stares at the gif for a moment, watching their hands meet a few times.

There are already hundreds of comments underneath, and he can read the top one without scrolling past the gif.

**Vivian** @vivlikestodraw

oh my gosh, someone tell them to kiss already!!!

"What's that?" Henry asks, making Alex jump.

"Nothing," Alex says a little too quickly, leaning away so Henry won't see his screen.

He closes Twitter and shoves his phone in his pocket, refusing to meet Henry's eyes.

He's not sure why the edit has him so shaken. It's just a clever Photoshop job, that's all. Any other day, the realization that people actually ship the two of them would be enough to make him laugh out loud.

He should just laugh it off, like he does with everything.

It doesn't feel funny for some reason.

When they finally reach the royal charter in the name of someone or other, Alex's heart melts a bit at the sight of so many kids happy just to see them. Granted, not many of them know who he is, but Henry puts on a big smile, the best acting he's done so far, and introduces him to them. Alex tries not to let on how much he hates Henry's bullshit, for the children's sake.

He's brought books, so he takes to reading for some of them. He's in the middle of one when a soft, rumbling voice takes him by surprise. He pauses, lips still forming a vowel sound, and listens carefully.

"Well, I've always liked Luke," the all-too familiar voice is saying.

He sounds so… kind. Warm. Like tea set out on the porch to warm up in the sun. It's nothing like the way he sounds when he's talking to the press, all sharp and cool like a poised knife, even though it's objectively the same voice. Normally, Alex can't stand it when he talks, but his words are bouncing around in Alex's head, in his chest, and they do it so softly.

He glances over at the little boy he'd been reading to. He's fallen asleep, smiling peacefully and clutching a stuffed penguin ("His name is Mr. Waddles!") to his chest.

Alex shifts on the bed, leaning back to see around the curtain.

Henry is smiling. For real this time. It sort of takes Alex's breath away, seeing his smile and knowing immediately how sincere it is.

"Luke is proof," Henry continues, voice buzzing in Alex's ears, "that it doesn't matter who your family is. It only matters what you do, and who you are deep down. All you need to reach greatness is to be true to yourself."

The girl he's talking to absolutely beams.

***

Alex can't help but stare at him as they walk down the hall together. (Alex on the left, Henry on the right. They almost always arrange themselves that way, without even really thinking about it.)

"What?" Henry asks, breaking the tense silence. "Is there something on my face?"

"No," Alex laughs. "It's just… I never knew you had actual human emotions. Figured it was all programmed."

Henry actually starts to crack a smile.

And then something else cracks. It sounds a lot like--

Cash is pushing both of them into a pitch black room, grunting "Stay here," and shutting the door. Alex promptly tries to sidestep a mop, then trips over Henry's foot, and they both go down.

For a minute or two, neither of them speaks, trying to catch their breath and steady their erratic heartbeats. They're laying beside each other, but it's the wrong way round, and Alex can feel their string digging into his arm.

"Can you scoot over? Seeing as this is your fault?" Alex asks.

Henry's hair practically stands on end. " _ Excuse _ me?"

"You're excused," Alex nods. "Now move, you're in my personal space."

Henry doesn't move. Instead, he asks, "How is this my fault?"

Alex rolls his eyes, tugging on the string in an attempt to free his arm, but it only makes Henry grunt as his hand is wrenched backwards. Weird, normally strings shift in size to accommodate, but it seems to be trying to make things as difficult as possible right now.

"Stop-- that--" Henry groans, sounding very much like the string is digging into his windpipe instead of his leg where Alex can see it pressing into the side of his trousers.

His expression is murderous. It's hilarious to Alex, and the closest he's gotten to likable.

Alex tugs even harder.

Henry growls, low in his throat, and suddenly he's pinning Alex to the ground, his hair falling like curtains on either side of his face.

Alex smirks, bucking his hips against him to try and knock him off. "So you do have some fight in you!"

Henry looks even more like he can't breathe. He rolls off of Alex again, rubbing at his eyelids with the heels of his palms. Their string is just as tangled as before, maybe more, but Alex relents and lets go of it, and Henry relaxes a little.

"It's your fault," Alex says, "because no one has tried to assassinate me before. But the second I'm seen with a fucking prince--"

"Lower your voice," Henry hisses. "And how do you know it's  _ you _ they're trying to kill? Why does everything always have to be about you?" He tries to cross his arms, but the string is too tangled and pulled too tight.

"If it's not about me, then it should be," Alex muses.

"Are you saying you want to die?" Henry asks, sounding more and more incredulous with every question.

Alex smirks. "We're not going to die. Cash is outside the door. I'm just saying that I'm a more influential target."

Henry groans. "Enough, I don't care. Can you just move over?"

Alex huffs. "That's what I asked  _ you,  _ you snobby little--"

"Well, I can't move," Henry snarls back. "There's no room in this stupid closet, and even if there were, it feels like my string is trying to cut off the circulation in my finger."

"Our string," Alex corrects him. He means that it's hurting both of them, but it comes out wrong, and they both fall silent.

He glances over at Henry, trying to make out his expression in the dark. Blank, mostly, but a little pinched, like it's hard for him to maintain that expression for once.

"I didn't think you liked  _ Star Wars _ ," Alex murmurs.

Henry's eyes go wide, and a choked laugh leaves him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Luke as in Luke Skywalker, right?" Alex asks. "Her scarf had the alliance symbol on it, too."

Henry doesn't say anything for a moment. He purses his lips. "What is your point, exactly?"

Alex shrugs. "I sort of figured you weren't allowed to watch that sort of thing. It's not very… princely. So either you're embarrassed to admit your worldliness, or someone in the royal family won't let you talk about that stuff in public."

Henry stiffens. "What is this, an interrogation? I would say I'm surprised, but seeing as you're American--"

"I just want to know what your deal is," Alex huffs. "Because, clearly, you're not being  _ true to yourself. _ So how can you tell someone else to do something you're too scared to do yourself?"

Henry grits his teeth, the mask starting to shatter. "Frankly, it is none of your business."

"It is, actually," Alex retorts. He pulls his left hand towards himself, and Henry grunts as the string tries even harder to cut into their skin. "For one thing, I'm tied to you. But more importantly, if I'm going to pretend to be your best friend, I kind of need to know this sort of thing before it catches me by surprise."

Henry finally turns to look at him. "You go first, then."

Alex is caught off-guard. "What?"

"Why do you hate me?"

Immediately, Alex feels a rush of something in his stomach, boiling hot. He takes a deep breath. "You really want to know?"

Henry looks concerned. He nods.

"You do remember the Olympics, don't you?"

Henry does remember. He remembers perfectly-- how could he not? It was the day his life started to fall apart. And yet, he doesn't know what  _ Alex _ would have to be upset about.

"Did I… say something?" Henry asks quietly.

Alex squeezes his eyes shut, clearly trying to keep calm. "I put my hand out, and you started to take it. But we'd barely touched before you jumped and moved your hand away like I had the plague or something."

Henry's heart thumps hard in his chest just from the memory of it.

"And you said, 'Terribly sorry,'" Alex continues, putting on a ridiculously bad accent that sounds more Australian than British, "and then you looked over at Shaan and said, and I quote, 'Can you get rid of him?'"

Henry flinches. "I… didn't know you heard that."

Alex is unamused. "You do realize it's a dick thing to say either way?"

Henry hesitates, then nods. "It was. I…" he frowns. "I'm sorry. For being a prick. I really am sorry. I was…"

He can't finish the sentence. What is he supposed to say? Not the truth.

"Why did you do that?" Alex asks. "Why couldn't you even touch me?"

Henry shakes his head. "I… was in a bad place at the time. My father had just died, and I…"

But Henry knows that wasn't the reason. Maybe that was part of why he took it so badly, but that wasn't the reason.

He dreams about it sometimes. About seeing Alex-- eighteen years old, and already so handsome. About him extending his hand to Henry. They both saw their string at the same time. Alex didn't mention that part. They saw it connecting them, and something changed in Alex's expression. Henry never knew what it was. He was worried it was anger, or disgust. Maybe it was just plain surprise, but he couldn't tell. Either way, he'd tried to push past it, he'd tried to be kind, to take his hand. And he did. But then he felt something, an itchy, scratching feeling against his finger. And when he looked down, he saw the end of his string, the very first fibre, starting to change color. It was turning pink. And he did the only thing he could think of: he ran away.

"I'm sorry," Alex says, startling him.

"What?" Henry asks.

"I… didn't even realise," Alex murmurs. "About your dad."

Henry remembers what he's just said. "I-- that's alright. It's no excuse."

Alex doesn't know what else to say. He's apologizing for not understanding Henry's mood at the Olympics, but also for not realizing sooner why they're in a cancer ward.

"Is… that all?" Henry asks, though it doesn't sound malicious. "Is that the only reason you hate me?"

Alex looks away. And then he looks back at Henry.

"Well, for one thing," Alex sighs, "everyone compares us, which sucks. Because-- because my version of the job is so much harder." And he knows that sounds like a dick thing to say, too, especially from the shocked look on Henry's face, but he keeps going. "It's easy to be a prince, and to be so powerful without having to do anything. And I'm sure it's really fucking easy to be a  _ white  _ prince, in a white royal family, in a white country. No one ever tests you. Not that I can see, anyway. They just… like you. Because you're you. And that's hard to watch, as someone who has to win over every single person they meet."

Henry stares at him for a moment, thinking. "I'm sorry," he says again.

Alex nods.

"You said 'for one thing,'" Henry murmurs. "Was there something else?"

Alex licks his lips. "I'm sure you already know this part. But… it sucks, having a stringmate. When your string is black. It feels like I'm getting bossed around. I don't want the universe to tell me what to feel. But I don't know what else to feel towards you. And that just makes me angrier. And I hate it. I don't want to listen to some cosmic destiny, or to fate. But I wind up hating you anyways. And… I don't know if I want to."

Henry swallows hard. "Yeah."

Alex pauses, nose scrunching. "And… it's stupid, but I--" He stops, eyes darting away again. "Seeing people… around me. My mom and Leo, in pink. June and Nora, in blue? They-- they got tied to someone important. And I guess our bond is important, too. But… but it just feels like…"

Henry swears Alex's eyes look shiny with tears.

"It feels like I'm not good enough or something," Alex whispers, like saying it too loud would make it true. "Like… all I'm good for is an antagonist. Like the universe didn't think I was enough for someone to love that strongly. That unconditionally."

Henry wants to say something, but he knows he can't. And even if he wanted to, the words are all catching in his throat like shards of glass, threatening to tear him open from the inside at the smallest movement. He's too fragile for that.

But in his head, Henry tells him.  _ You are enough. You are enough for love. For unconditional, universe-defying, stronger-than-diamond love. _

Alex shrugs weakly, trying to look nonchalant. "Like I said, it's stupid."

Henry shakes his head. He does his best to push something out. "You can be loved. A string is not the sole meaning of your life. You will have so many other ties, ones you can't see yet. If you had a string for every person you will ever meet--" his throat closes up, and he has to pause to breathe. " _ So many _ of them would be pink, Alex. Trust me."

Alex smiles.

The darkness, coupled with the silence, feels like a crushing weight.

Then, quietly, Henry speaks up. "To answer your question. My favorite  _ Star Wars  _ film is  _ Return of the Jedi _ ."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi >:3  
> For real though, I saw how much love this was getting and was really touched! I've had this chapter in the works for a long time (it was going to be chapters 3 and 4 but they were too short on their own) but realizing how many of y'all were subbed gave me the motivation to clean them up and post them. Unfortunately, I'm not going to guarantee there will be more, just because I have more scenes than concrete plot, but I hope I can work on it more if possible. I really love this AU, and I'm glad you guys do too.

"Where've you been?" Ellen asks as Alex slides into his seat at the table, several minutes late.

"Saw Luna," he grunts before reaching for a slice of pizza.

She and June wait with bated breath as he chews at a snail's pace. They both know a meeting with Rafael Luna could look like nothing on the outside, but be a whole lot on the inside.

Leo is unfazed. He just laughs and pulls an olive off his slice, tossing it into his mouth.

Alex swallows and licks grease off his lips. "Ate some Skittles. Talked about that Independent you're hoping for," he says, nodding towards Ellen. "And good ol' Jeff Richards." He frowns, as if the pepperoni has gone moldy in his mouth. "And Henry."

June grins, suddenly much more interested. "Is that so?"

He rolls his eyes. "For like a minute."

"What did he say?" June asks, pizza forgotten in her hand.

"Nothing," Alex groans. "Seriously, it's nothing. Mostly Luna said that it's possible we could get Connor, but not a hundred percent. He might not line up with all of mom's policies, so--"

"Enough of that," Ellen says, and makes a scrubbing motion over her face. "You weren't here when I went into mom mode before, so you're seeing it now." She leans conspiratorially across the table. "Although you might have to tell me tomorrow."

Alex smiles.

"Now!" Ellen continues, looking around at everyone. "One good thing, one bad thing."

June starts. "Good thing. I had the best discussion on Twitter about global warming and how, even though you obviously should be conscious, most of the damage is done by big companies, so it's stupid to focus on your carbon footprint instead of on the heavy hitters." She sighs loudly, expression dreamy. "It was so refreshing to have an actual conversation with informed people." She purses her lips. "Bad thing. Global warming still exists."

Ellen snorts.

"One good thing," Alex muses. "I'm not in Great Britain right now." He stands and walks over to the fridge, rooting around for a beer. When he's got one, he plops back into his seat. "One bad thing. Luna is convinced I made a voodoo doll of Henry last year. Which I  _ didn't _ ," he adds, looking pointedly at June before she can butt in. "Says he saw me wrap my string around its neck to try and strangle him."

"Kinky," June says under her breath, and Alex chokes on a slice of mushroom.

***

Christmas dinner is comfortable. Perfectly domestic. Like, despite everything, they're just a normal family.

Which is why it stings that much more when Oscar starts yelling across the table.

All at once, Alex feels like a fucking high schooler again, pretending like he's working on an essay because it's due tomorrow and not because having something to think about will help him drown out the screaming from downstairs, or telling his mom he needs to stay at Liam's place for the night because they have a project when really he's just claustrophobic in his own house. He feels small, and weak, and a little angry, but mostly sad.

"Just stop it!" He snaps, shooting up from his seat. He fights to keep his voice from shaking.

Oscar grits his teeth. "Mijo, stay out of this."

"I don't care anymore," he says, his nails digging into his palms. "I'm not saying it to take sides. I just think it's ridiculous that you two can't even let us have one nice night."

He can feel the tears pricking at his eyes as he rushes out of the room, and he hopes they haven't seen. He finds himself bringing his hand to his lips to chew on his string, full of nervous energy.

Alex wishes he could just hug someone. He doesn't know who he  _ could _ hug, though. His mom was just as furious as his dad. June is still out there in the middle of the battlefield that is the dining hall. Liam is back in Texas. Nora is with her family.

He lays down on his bed and clutches a pillow to his chest, as a half-hearted substitute.

Still, a pillow isn't good enough to talk to. He'd really feel pathetic if he tried that. And right now, he really needs to talk. Even having the string in his mouth isn't enough to keep him grounded.

He sets the pillow aside and calls the first person he thinks of.

"Alex?" Henry's voice asks, slightly raspy.

"Did I wake you up?" He asks, feeling a bit guilty.

"Ah-- not really, but… it is sort of late. Did something happen?"

And for a second, Alex almost says no. He's that used to acting like everything is under control.

"Um, yeah," he sighs. "Kind of."

"Are you okay?"

Alex's heart squeezes in his chest. He's not sure when someone last asked him that. "Physically, yeah, but…" he rubs at his nose with the back of his hand. "Emotionally, I feel like shit."

"Oh. I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it, or were you calling to distract yourself? Because David is right here, and I can send you pictures."

Alex cracks a smile around the string still in his mouth. "Thanks, but… I kind of just wanted to talk. You don't even have to, like, give any input, if you don't want to. I just feel a lot better when I have a way to talk through all of it."

"Alright."

The words start slow, like he's just barely hit the handle on a faucet, letting out a drop at a time. He pauses and stammers and thinks too hard about everything he says.

But Henry is a good listener, and he coaxes it out of him. Before long, it's all rushing forth, the words and the tears. He talks about tonight, but he explains that it only hurts so much because of everything else. He talks about the divorce. He talks about how hard it was when they thought they could get through it without one. He talks about things he's never told anyone, like the time he ran out of the house and into the nearby woods and just sat on the ground with his head between his knees so it would finally be quiet for a bit. He tells him about all his coping mechanisms, good and bad. Most of them are bad. He just talks.

And Henry listens.

When the words have run dry, Alex's throat is scratchy and tired, and his eyes are puffy, but he feels so much lighter.

In the momentary silence, he pulls the string from his mouth and lets it fall.

Henry speaks up. "I think… you've done the best you could."

Alex laughs wetly. "Yeah?"

"Yes. You were just a kid, really. You can't have been expected to do much else. I think you did well."

Alex swallows. "Thanks."

There's a pause. Then, softly, Henry says, "Thank you for letting me listen. I know it wasn't easy."

Alex isn't sure if he means it was hard to talk about or hard to tell Henry specifically, but he says, "Yeah, well, it really helped."

There's a loud bark all of a sudden, and Henry gasps. "No! Down, David! Bad!"

Alex snorts, listening attentively.

"Hey-- stop that!"

"Oh, come on, I'm sure he didn't do anything wrong," Alex says.

"He knows he's not supposed to lick me after he's eaten! His breath is always horrendous." His voice shifts all at once, transforming into baby talk. "Isn't that right, boy? You know you shouldn't give daddy kisses. Yes, yes. There's a good lad."

He snickers. "You go from being angry at him to praising him that quickly? No wonder he's not well-trained."

"He is extremely well-trained!" Henry says, sounding offended. Then he goes quiet for a second. "Well, he does tend to steal my shoes."

Alex rolls his eyes, grinning. "Impressive. He must be the only one in the world who finds your choice in footwear appealing."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Henry squeaks.

"Your shoes are so boring," Alex groans. "I swear you always wear the same pair, and they're completely nondescript."

"I have a dress code, you know," Henry huffs. "And I quite like my shoes, thank you very much." David barks again. "And so does David."

There's a soft knock on Alex's door.

"Oh. Uh, I think I've gotta go," Alex says. "Sorry. But, um, we can definitely talk again sometime."

"Oh. Of course." Henry yawns audibly. "Good night, then. And Merry Christmas."

Alex smiles. "Merry Christmas."

He sets his phone down just as June opens the door. Her expression is wary.

"Who was that?" She asks, walking closer.

"No one," Alex says quickly. Then he frowns. "Actually, no, not no one. I was sort of… talking to Henry."

Her eyes widen. "Really?"

"It's weird, I know," he says, waving a hand dismissively. "It's fine."

Hesitantly, she sits on the edge of his bed. "Are  _ you _ fine?"

He bites his lip. "I'm… better. I think."

She nods. "Because of Henry?"

Alex blinks. "Uh… I guess you could put it that way." He shrugs. "All he really did was listen."

"That's good," she says, smiling a little.

"What about you?"

She looks away. "I don't know. I'm just so…" she runs a hand through her hair. "Tired. I thought we were past all of this, but they're the same as ever, and I feel just as useless."

Alex nods. "Like… I'm trapped in my own head."

She looks up. "And Henry?"

He frowns. "What about him?"

"You said you felt better. Was there… anything in particular he did?"

Alex thinks. "I guess he just… didn't try to give me advice, or tell me what to do, or how to handle my own shit. He got that it was something I was dealing with." He runs his tongue over his teeth. "And he made me feel like… like I didn't have to prove myself, I guess. That my best was good enough."

"Um… Alex?" Her eyes are wide and helpless.

"Yeah?"

"Your string."

Alex's head jerks, and he looks down at his hands, clasped in his lap.

As he watches, the string on his finger is unraveling, thin fibers curling off and falling to the floor. Alex is horrified at first, certain that his chewing on it tonight was the final straw, his bad habits finally catching up with him. But as more of the string falls apart, he sees what's happening, and his heart falters in his chest.

After what feels like an eternity but must only be a minute or so, a million little black fibers have drifted to the floor, but his string isn't gone. It's like it's shedded its skin, revealing a stronger, more tightly-wound core: a string the color of the sky on a cloudless day.

For a long time, neither of them speaks.

June's lips part.

"Don't say it," Alex murmurs.

June throws her arms around his neck, whooping loudly. "You made a friend!"

Alex's face burns. "I did not! He's someone I like to make miserable, and this one time we talked about something serious."

"Exactly! A friend!" June laughs. "And you can't even argue anymore!" She grabs his string, waving it in his face. "It's blue, Alex!"

For once, she's right. There's nothing he can say.

His phone rings on the night stand. He turns to look, terrified.

It's Henry's number.

June squeals. "I'll leave you to it!"

"No! June," but she's already gone.

Alex takes a deep breath and picks up.

"Did you see--"

"Yes," Alex breathes.

Silence on the other end.

"Oh," Henry whispers. Then, "I'm glad."

The dial tone is loud against Alex's ear.

***

"Which one of you put Henry on the list?" Alex sighs.

Nora raises an eyebrow. "Hello? You're supposed to be friends with him, genius. This'll be a good opportunity to show that."

"Don't you think this did a pretty good job already?" Alex asks, lifting his left hand and wiggling his pinky. The blue string jumps. "StringSons was trending for  _ days. _ "

"Which is exactly why you should invite him," she says.

So Henry comes to the gala.

He arrives fashionably late, with his best friend Pez in tow.

"Hello," Henry says, smiling. "Been a while, I suppose."

Alex nods, but then he's not sure where to go from there. A handshake is way too formal, but he doesn't think they're at the hug level. He settles for a quick friendly pat on the back. It makes Henry laugh, so at least there's that.

He doesn't miss the way Henry stares at his hand, like he needed to see Alex's end of the string in person to make sure.

Pez does shake Alex's hand, and his smile is infectious. Alex can't help the warm, bubbly feeling it sparks in him, and if it were anyone else, he'd blame it on the champagne.

When Pez drops his hand and turns to look at June, his expression shifts. He looks so alive.

"Pardon me saying this, but you are absolutely gorgeous," Pez says so softly he almost can't be heard over the music. "I would love to buy you a drink, if you'll let me."

June giggles, clearly flustered. "Who am I to say no to a free drink from such a handsome man?"

Pez puffs his chest out a little, smile somehow brighter, and extends his hand to her. June reaches to take it.

Alex is hit by a wave of déjà vu so strong it's almost nauseating.

The two of them stop, staring at their hands. June hardly breathes.

Pez swallows hard and breaks the silence with a single syllable. "I…"

June takes his hand, eyes frantic in the best way. "Do you have--"

She leans down and grabs his other hand. A huge smile stretches across her face.

She turns and calls into the crowd of people, not caring what anyone else will think. "Nora!"

It takes a second, but Nora slips out of the crowd, eyes wide.

"Is something wrong?" She asks, hiking up her skirt to tread across the dance floor faster.

June grabs a blue string and raises it into the air for Nora to see.

Nora's squeal threatens to shatter the floor-to-ceiling windows as she breaks into a full sprint. She throws herself into Pez's arms before he can say anything, and her black hair bounces with her wild laughter.

She finally manages to lift her head. "I'm sorry," she says, flushing. She takes a step back, pushing her hair from her eyes in an attempt to steady herself. "Uh-- Nora. I'm Nora."

The expression on Pez's face can only be described as relief. "I'm Pez. Like the candy."

Nora laughs again.

The three of them embrace, all grinning brightly. Then they disappear into the crowd, already chatting amongst themselves.

Alex only remembers where he is when Henry speaks.

"I can't believe it."

Alex turns to him, chest tight. "I-- I didn't know he had two strings."

Henry shakes his head, smiling. "I should have figured it out. You told me about them, over the phone. And I'd seen pictures of them. I don't know how I didn't make the connection."

He and Henry are several glasses of alcohol deep when a voice calls out, "Alex!"

Alex turns to look. He doesn't recognize the girl at first, but after a moment he pegs her as a pop star he never really got into.

"Hi!" She smiles brightly. "I was hoping I'd get to meet you tonight!"

He puts on his best  _ American heartthrob _ smile. "The pleasure is mine, really. I'm so glad you're here."

The smile works a little too well, he realises when she leans closer, eyes half-lidded. "I know we've never met before, but I think there's something drawing me to you," she giggles. "Like… like an invisible string. You know?"

Henry clears his throat very pointedly at Alex's left, but when Alex turns to look, he's downing another glass of champagne, watching the band.

He glances back to the girl. "You… don't say."

She laughs. "It's silly, I know that. But don't you ever wonder what it would be like if you were tied to someone else in your life?"

He does. Constantly. But something tells him it wouldn't have been her.

She takes a step closer, leaning forward as if to whisper conspiratorially, but he knows she's only doing it to show some cleavage. She knows that he knows. "I have a concert here in D.C. next weekend, and I was thinking--"

She takes another step, but her eyes go wide, and she starts to fall. Alex and Henry reach out to catch her at the same time.

Her face is beyond red. Alex helps her stand up straight and looks down.

The heel of her stiletto is tangled in his and Henry's string.

She clears her throat, lifting her foot to free herself. "Uh. Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," Alex says quickly, even though it isn't really his fault.

(Is it? It's his string, after all.)

She shakes her head. "I… I left my friend by the buffet. I have to get back to her."

She rushes off, clearly trying to run without actually running.

Alex thinks he should feel bad, but he just turns to Henry and shrugs. Henry laughs.

The countdown is as spectacular as it is every year, but it's dulled significantly when Alex looks up from kissing Nora and can't find Henry. Even though it's probably nothing, something is telling Alex to look for him.

He's been searching the hall for a few minutes when his string twitches a little. It's enough for him to look at it, and finally see it snaking out the doors. Immediately, he feels like an idiot.

Henry turns to look back at him the moment he opens the doors and lets the music flow into the garden. Alex can't read his expression from here.

He lets the doors close behind him, and the music cuts out abruptly, leaving them both in silence until the snow crunches under Alex's feet when he walks down the stairs.

He stops beside Henry.

"What are you doing?" Henry asks.

"I love snow," Alex says instead of responding, because he's really not sure what he would even say. "We hardly got any in Texas. Here it completely covers the ground, and then some. It's so pretty."

Henry turns away from the building again, looking up at the sky. A puffy cloud passes over the moon.

"Why'd you leave the party?" Alex asks, even though he still hasn't answered Henry's question.

"No reason in particular," Henry says, but Alex can tell he's lying. His expression is too relaxed and blank.

"What, you can't even be around us commoners for the night?" Alex teases, elbowing him in the side. He's pretty sure that's not the real reason, but maybe he can get Henry to talk.

Henry huffs. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm just… not one for parties."

Alex can believe that, but there's still something there.

Shrugging, Alex stuffs his hands in his pockets. "I guess you're the kind of person who gets tired just from talking to other people?"

Slowly, Henry nods. "Yes, exactly. It's… a lot."

"A lot of what?"

Henry shakes his head. "Just a lot."

Alex sighs. "An introvert, huh? I guess you needed  _ some _ character flaw."

Henry squawks. "What is that supposed to mean?"

He glances over at Henry. "I mean you're a literal Prince Charming. You're good at everything, you know that? It's exhausting. So every time you do something flawed, I'm kind of relieved."

His expression wavers. Then, quietly, "I'm not good at everything. In fact, I'm not good at many things at all."

Alex raises an eyebrow. "Name literally one thing you're bad at."

"Dancing."

"You can waltz," Alex protests.

"Drawing, then," Henry suggests. "I'm shite at drawing."

Alex laughs. "Really?"

"Can hardly draw a circle," Henry admits.

"Okay, see?" Alex says, grinning. "What else?"

Henry frowns. "You're just getting me to list all my bad qualities, aren't you?"

"No, no!" Alex assures him. "I'm getting you to list all the things that make you seem more real."

He looks surprised. "Oh." He bites his lip, thinking. "I can't talk to women."

Alex can't help it-- he snorts. "No way."

"You misunderstand," Henry says, putting his hands up in defense. "It's not like I get flustered or anything! I just… never understand anything they're saying."

He's still grinning. "What about when girls flirt with you?"

Henry makes a face. "I told you, it's not like that." His eyes dart away, then he turns to look at the moon again. "I've never really been interested in that sort of thing."

"Huh. Are you one of those people who never wants to fall in love? You'd rather devote your life to your work or whatever?"

He frowns. "I never said that. I'm just… not interested in the options that are offered to me."

Alex crosses his arms. "Oh, so you have crazy high standards."

"No," Henry sighs. "No, not really. There's only one big thing. And, being in the position I'm in… I'm never going to get a chance with someone like that."

He relaxes his stance a little. "Oh. I get that. I have, like, a list of girls I can be seen with."

Henry nods. "The problem is… no matter how long the list of girls is, there'll never be one I'd really be happy with."

Alex frowns. "No one? Not a single girl in Great Britain would be good enough for you?"

"Not a single girl in the world," Henry says. He laughs, but it's dry and monotone.

"I… don't get it," Alex says.

Henry looks over at him. "Really?"

"Really really."

Something flashes behind Henry's eyes. Then, under his breath, he says, "You are such an idiot."

He turns and grabs Alex's face, and Alex can feel their string brushing against his cheek.

And then Henry is kissing him.


End file.
